Chapter Text

It's the third weekend of the month, and therefore everyone is little. Bruce can feel what a relief it is to all of them, to be Daddy's precious pets instead of their adult selves. Natasha's trust touches him the most, because it is some of the most complete and for the least reason. She has a tendency to get to him first, crawling into bed beside him, her baby bag on the floor. Waking up early on Saturday morning, he feels that warmth beside him and smiles, turning to gather her into his arms. She coos, and he knows he probably won't get a real word out of her until Sunday night. He smiles.

"Morning, baby girl." He kisses her forehead, and she squirms happily in her pink pajamas. They have feet, and are made of some of the softest, warmest stuff Bruce has ever seen. She wiggles happily, and soon enough Bruce is going through the standard setup of powdering and diapering his sweet little girl and putting on the mitts that will make her hands clumsy. She babbles and coos, and Bruce cradles her in his arms once he's done, cooing back at her and letting her suck on his first finger until her eyes start to drop shut. She likes to be tucked into her own little crib beside Sergei the stuffed dog, and makes happy baby noises to herself as she settles into sleep again. Bruce smiles, watching her. Dozes off again for a little while, only to be jolted awake by Steve leaping into bed with him. He's heavy, and shakes the whole bed. Natasha wakes up and starts bawling, and Steve looks instantly chagrined. He's always so open and sunny like this that it's almost more than Bruce can bear, and he hugs him.

"Sorry, Daddy," Steve whimpers.

"It's okay. I know you didn't mean to wake the baby." He gives him a reassuring squeeze. "Bring her over here, and we'll see if we can get her back to sleep."

Natasha quiets when Steve scoops her up out of her crib, but is still sniffling when he sets her down. Bruce cuddles her, cooing softly to her, and wipes her face. She makes a small, unhappy noise, but is much quieter. "Want a bottle, baby?" She squirms negatively, and he nuzzles her, making her coo and cling. "Pacifer?" She does the same thing, and he chuckles. "Special pacifier, huh?" She babbles happily, and he turns to Steve, who blushes badly. "You woke her, son. You ought to quiet her."

"Okay, Daddy." He's already hard in his own powder blue pajamas, and whimpers as Bruce carefully gets his cock out and explains about his baby sister needing something to suck on. To soothe her. He has explained this at least twenty times, but he never gets tired of the wide-eyed wonder on Steve's face as he gets Natasha settled and guides the head of Steve's cock into her mouth. Bruce softly tells him how well he's doing at looking after his baby sister, and how nice he must feel in her mouth. Natasha's baby technique is nothing like normal, of course. No finesse, just happy drooling and infantile selfishness, using Steve to stroke her mouth. Bruce shivers, watching, and rubs behind Steve's balls, helping him to actually get off, Natasha swallowing everything.

"W-was that good, Daddy?" Steve whispers. He's flushed, pupils blown.

"Perfect." He kisses Steve's forehead, tucking him back into his pajamas before scooping Natasha up and giving her a bottle of juice to clear her mouth. Natasha has a lot of bottles, everything from drinkable soups to carefully mixed White Russians. She pulls away and he catches a drip of cranberry juice before it can roll down her neck, and cuddles and rocks her back into a doze. Steve leans on him and is very quiet, watching Natasha's big eyes blink shut. When she's safely in her crib again, Bruce turns to Steve and smiles.

"Always such a good boy." Steve beams, and cuddles Bruce, softly telling him about his dreams, and how he likes being a good big brother to Natasha, someone Daddy can trust to help him. Bruce can only agree, stroking his hair. Everything is so quiet and warm that he nods off again for a moment, only to raise his head and see Clint in the doorway. He's clutching his teddy bear in one arm, the thumb of the other hand crammed into his mouth, eyes full of unshed tears.

"Oh, honey," Bruce murmurs, reaching out to him. "Come here." Clint does, crawling into his arms, resting on the other side of his chest from Steve. "What's wrong?" Bruce murmurs, and Clint whines, clinging to him, bear squished between them.

"Bad dream," he whimpers into Bruce's chest. Steve reaches over and rubs his back.

"We'll protect you, Clint."

Bruce smiles. "Yeah." He kisses the top of Clint's head. "Daddy's not gonna let anything happen to you." Clint wiggles happily, and stays where he is, sucking his thumb and calming down. They all doze together for a while, Pepper absent and Tony and Thor still asleep in their own beds.